


Rebecca and the Dragon

by Centeris2



Category: Star Stable
Genre: Blood, Gen, Kembell and Drake have different ish names, Medieval AU, Plague, Violence, also virginity testing is legit, and there were some WILD things, as in I looked up historical virginity testing, attempted rape and mentioned rape, because medieval so last names aren't a bit thing, maybe one day I'll finish this, or at least add to it, so I didn't even have to make things up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 04:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16211117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Centeris2/pseuds/Centeris2
Summary: Life is tough when your family died of plague and a nasty warlord is taking over your town. Life gets weird when a Noblewoman decides you might be Perfect for her Purposes (if you're a virgin, if not you dead).(If I ever do more of this it'll probably expanded, this was basically me getting ideas out so it is rather sparse)





	1. Chapter 1

The rooster crowed, strutting about the yard before flapping up to the open window, cawing again into the bakery. 

“I’m up,” Rebecca grinned at the rooster, already working dough with her hands. The rooster yelled at her, fluffing up its feathers in annoyance.

“You get your food after I get the second batch in, you know that,” Rebecca muttered. She had always talked to the family animals, but it had increased dramatically when the family succumbed to plague, leaving her to tend to the bakery and the animals. Before the work was split between her and her parents, now it was all on her. 

The rooster, that Rebecca affectionately called Dick, stood in the window, watching her impatiently and clucking occasionally as if to tell her to hurry up.

The hens, though also impatient, at least had the decency to wait in their pen and only started squawking when Rebecca appeared with grain in her apron. The chickens settled down considerably once their breakfast was thrown out to them, and Rebecca checked the water buckets. No rain last night, she would need to get more from the town fountain. 

“Good morn!” a neighbor, Willow the Alebrewer, called as she took made her way to the fountain to get fresh water for the day.

“Good morning!” Rebecca called back, walking with the older woman in happy silence. The town was waking up, the sun creeping up over the horizon.

“You have my order?” Willow asked as they dropped their buckets and filled them in the Fountain of Aideen.

“It’s at the bakery! You have my barm?” Rebecca asked. They had this routine down by now: every morning Rebecca would give Willow bread, and Willow would give Rebecca barm from the ale she brewed. Rebecca used the barm to bake leavened bread, and Willow would sell the bread with her ale to customers, the pair of them splitting the profits. It had become an essential business practice for Rebecca, with only her selling bread she couldn’t get deliveries to everyone and still be in the bakery to bake the orders. After the death of her parents she had worked out similar deals with one of the dairy families, the Rivermoon family, and some of the fishers. The bulk of the bread she baked would be delivered to one of them, in exchanged she would get supplies from them and a cut of the profits of what bread they sold. 

Unfortunately the grain suppliers weren’t interested in those sorts of arrangements with her, but she managed. It was understandable, they baked and sold their own bread, selling hers would threaten their profits from their baked goods. Her family had once milled their own grain, but she couldn’t do it on her own, at least not enough to meet up with her orders. 

Willow followed Rebecca back to the bakery, letting Rebecca drop off the fresh water and fill up a box with fresh bread, and then the pair went to Willow’s. The bread was taken out and replaced with ale barm, a byproduct of the ale making process, and Rebecca returned to the bakery with her cut from Willow’s profits the day before. 

She spent her day baking with occasional errands out to collect and deliver as needed. A handcart full of bread was swapped for milk, cheese, and butter. Another handcart full of bread went to the docks, trading bread for fish. An empty handcart and a purse full of her cut collected from her partners and she could fill the handcart with grain for more baking. At some point during the day she collected eggs from her chickens, fed herself, sold bread herself, and baked until all orders were satisfied.

To say she was happy at the end of each day to fall onto her bed and sleep was an understatement.


	2. Chapter 2

Saturday evening was the time Rebecca always went to Confession. With everything she had suffered due to the loss of her family, she needed to be in the Goddess’ good favor and Her protection. Had she more time the young woman would be visiting the church to confess her sins a few times a week, if not every day.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” Rebecca murmured once the confessional was closed and the window to Father Augustine clicked open.

“Tell Our Merciful Goddess your sins,” Father Augustine encouraged, trying not to chuckle. Compared to what he had heard others confess, Rebecca’s sins were trivial, but her piety was endearing, and made her a good worshiper. If only the rest of the church were so pious.

“I have sinned greatly this week, the worst offense is questioning The Goddess’ plans for me,” Rebecca admitted, Father Augustine nodding though she couldn’t really see him through the decorative lattice separating them. She had spoken to him often while growing up about her desire to become a nun and serve The Goddess that way, but she had always been discouraged from doing so. She had not been called by The Goddess to that life, despite her desires. 

“The Goddess placed you where you belong, my child, in the role you were meant to serve,” Father Augustine reminded her.

“Then why do I long for a life I was not called to?” she begged to know.

“It is temptation, all suffer from the longing for a different life. You must pray to The Goddess to help you accept your place, for She put you there for a reason. She will reveal to you how to serve Her through your position,” Father Augustine encouraged.

“I give all I can to the Church, and bake extra bread and oatcakes for the poor and hungry, yet I feel like that isn’t enough,” Rebecca mumbled.

“Pray to the Goddess for acceptance and guidance, repeat the Prayer of Guidance and Submission five times for penance, and you will be forgiven,” Father Augustine instructed, “what other sins have you to confess?”

Rebecca had quite a list: 8 counts at being angry at The Goddess, 10 counts of giving in to depression, 4 counts of failure to accept suffering, 24 counts of thinking vulgar language, 7 counts of wishing evil upon others, 8 counts of anger, 3 counts of harboring a grudge, 17 counts of rude thoughts, and 4 counts of suspicious thoughts against others. She stressed and fretted and repeatedly apologized for her sins, ashamed of her mortal thoughts. Father Augustine wished others were as devout as she was, the town would be in better shape if people were so apologetic for simply thinking poorly of others. He was not deaf, he knew that her sins were mostly in her thoughts, he never heard complaints of her acting out in anger or speaking ill of anyone. 

“The Goddess forgives you, my child. May your piety inspire those around you, The Goddess blesses those who keep Her Commandments,” Father Augustine said to encourage her, glad to hear her sigh of relief cut through her tears of shame and guilt. With instructions for penance and a final blessing Rebecca departed, needing to get a head start on tomorrow’s orders.

Father Augustine remained on his side of the confession booth, sighing a bit unhappily. Rebecca would make a good nun, but he knew peasants were not chosen for that life. Nuns, and other religious positions, were filled by the higher ranks of society, The Goddess blessing them with high birth and opportunities to serve through the Church. 

Another man, this one much less pious and concerned with the matters of the soul, watched Rebecca as she left the church before he crept into the booth she had just been in.

“Good evening, Father,” Father Augustine tried not to roll his eyes or sound disgusted when he recognized who now sat in what was meant to be a place of confession.

“What sins have you to confess, my child?” Father Augustine said in a neutral voice, knowing the man wasn’t here to confess. He never was.

“Confess? The Goddess has blessed me with great wealth! Surely that is proof enough of my righteousness,” the man snorted, the jewelry he wore tinkling as he made sure to rustle it enough to make noise. 

“I would like some information, that girl who was just in here…”

“Confession is a sacred and secret affair between the confessor and The Goddess, for me to divulge information would be a grave sin,” Father Augustine said as the man trailed off with a suggestive tone in his voice.

“The only sin I care about from her is sex outside of marriage.”

“Such sin is between her and The Goddess,” Father Augustine replied.

Coins dropped to the floor on the other side, one after another.

“Wouldn’t it be lovely if the altar to our Goddess was redone? It would bring pilgrims to this place, come to look at the beautiful gold and jewels in honor of Her. Imagine the donations to The Goddess,” the man tempted.

“Gold can not buy what is between a believer and the Goddess,” Father Augustine reiterated.

“But it can buy information, and that’s all I’m after. I’ll get it one way or another,” the man pointed out. 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Kembell smirked, emptying a purse full of gold into the donation basket. Father Augustine felt a bit sick, but the donation from Kembell would greatly help The Church.


	3. Chapter 3

“Ugh, here comes His Lordship,” one of the fishers muttered, making Rebecca look up from emptying her cart of bread at the fish stand. ‘His Lordship’ was the sarcastic term for Rupert Kembell, a commoner who had acquired a great deal of wealth and flaunted it. He had no title, he had not been knighted or joined the ranks of the nobility, but he acted like he was a king, dressing lavishly and parading about, insisting that he be addressed as though he was titled. And with his wealth he was able to enforce his self appointed title of Lord. 

‘His Lordship’ himself came into view, it was easy to spot him atop his enormous bay shire with a host of ‘guards’ following him, also mounted. They were not so much guards for his own protection but mercenaries to terrorize anyone who did not show enough respect. 

The entourage halted at one of the fish stands, one that had been taken over by Kembell. The family had needed money to pay their taxes after losing their ship in a storm, and Kembell had graciously offered to help them out. Now they worked for Kembell. He had moved in on other family businesses, the plague had been especially profitable for him as he had gobbled up businesses and shops that struggled from the lack of workers. There were even rumors that he had infected families that had not accepted his generosity.

The guilds did not like Kembell, but the man had managed to insert himself into every type of business in Jorviktown, forcing his way into every guild and trying to gain more power and influence. It was distressing, but Rebecca didn’t know what to do about it other than keep her head down and try to not be noticed. 

“Bread for sale at a fish market?” Rebecca froze, panic setting in.

“Yes, Your Honor,” she replied, turning and bowing to him but keeping her face down, hidden under her bonnet. 

“I am sure the fish guts add flavor,” Kembell snorted, some of his henchmen chuckling at the joke.

“Perhaps, Your Honor,” Rebecca answered, not sure what else to do. 

“Not a flavor any refined gentleman would like, but no doubt suitable for peasants,” he continued to taunt, Rebecca biting back the retort that Kembell was also a peasant. Or at least he was, any man that could walk around with six hired thugs while dressed in fine silk couldn’t be considered a peasant. 

Mercifully he left, moving on to the next business he had taken over, and Rebecca left as quickly as she could to return to her bakery.

“You are quite a pious little girl,” the voice slithered from behind her, making her jump as she left Confessional after her weekly confession.

“I try to do as The Goddess commands, Your Honor!” Rebecca managed, turning and bowing to Kembell. 

“Does The Goddess command you to cry?” Kembell asked, lifting her face so he could look at her teary eyes. She blushed, ashamed to be seen crying, and pulled away from his touch, taking a step back.

“They are tears of guilt and of relief at being forgiven, Your Honor,” she explained, looking down and away again. Kembell took a step closer, forcing her to look up at him again.

“Guilt at what, I wonder? What could a little girl feel guilty over except her appearance?” she looked away, blushing harder. She had cleaned up before coming to confession, did she still appear dirty? She felt dirty the way he kept getting closer to her and touching her face.

“All ages sin, and all sins must be confessed, Your Honor,” she tried to pull away, but this time he held onto her face and pulled her closer.

“I would love to hear about your sins,” he teased, voice low and husky as he bore into her with his stare.

“Your Honor, I must go, I have work that must be done,” she begged, frightened when he gripped her tighter when she tried to pull away.

“Ah yes, your little bakery, how do you manage all by yourself I wonder?”

“The Goddess gives me strength, Your Honor,” she hoped humoring him and answering his questions would make him let go.

“The Goddess gave you many things, and I’m grateful for that,” he smirked, looking down at her body before adding, “does the Goddess not command that a woman be wed? You will have a difficult time following the commandments of The Goddess if you run that bakery all by yourself.”

“For now I serve The Goddess with my bakery, Your Honor. I trust She will provide a husband,” Rebecca replied, heart pounding now. Why had he brought up marriage? Kembell was not the marrying type, he enjoyed spreading his seed, and surely he wouldn’t want to marry her. He should be marrying into nobility or into another wealthy family. 

“She does provide, doesn’t she?” Kembell said slowly before he leaned in and breathed in Rebecca’s smell. 

“Your Honor, please, I must-”

“You should be thinking about who you serve in this life, not the next,” he whispered to her, following her face as she tried to pull away, keeping his lips next to her ear as he breathed heavily, pressing his cheek against hers. He was thrilled by how hot her face was, not caring that it was because of embarrassment and shame.

“Go on,” he muttered, wrapping his arms around her and forcing her against him, “call me your lord, your master.”

“Please- let go!” she begged, humiliated and terrified when he ground his hips against her.

“Only after you say it,” he promised.

“My Lord, please, I must get back to work,” she pleaded, relieved that he let her go and left her, smirking at her.

She stood for a moment, shaking in fear and feeling filthy, before she rushed to the altar of The Goddess to pray.


	4. Chapter 4

There wasn’t so much a knock on the door as there was a slight noise before the door was shoved open, startling Rebecca where she was working.

“Your Honor!” Rebecca said in surprise, bowing and lowering her head, her heart pounding. What was Kembell doing here?

“Mm. How quaint,” he said dismissively, looking around the bakery and home. 

“I’ll take it.”

“Your Honor?” Rebecca asked, bewildered.

“You aren’t able to run this business on your own, not forever, allow me to take it off your hands,” he said sweetly.

“This is my home, Your Honor,” she stammered. She had nowhere to go if she sold this place, it was her home and her livelihood. 

“Uck, peasants, living where they work, how lowly,” Kembell sneered.

“I promise you a good offer on this place,” he insisted, Rebecca very much doubting that.

“I am sorry, Your Honor, but I must decline,” Rebecca said, glancing at the guards with Kembell. Would they just take the shop from her? Would they kill her? Would they destroy the shop just to spite her?

“Such a shame, the purse for selling this place could have gotten you a fine husband, maybe one with a few pigs. Change up the fish guts for pig shit,” he taunted but left, leaving her to sigh in relief. 

That night she brought the chickens inside, just in case an accident happened to the chicken coop. 

 

\---

Two days after Kembell had offered to buy the bakery bandits had gone through the fish market in the night, destroying stands and settings ships ablaze. Kembell’s property was coincidentally undamaged, and within a week of nightly attacks the other fishers either paid Kembell for ‘protection’ or had loaned money to Kembell to try to pay for repairs. 

It was obviously Kembell’s doing, but there was nothing to be done. As long as the landlords got their taxes and didn’t lose profits they didn’t care. 

Rebecca lost her deal with the fishers, and was no longer able to deliver bread for them to sell for her. 

The textile guild was targeted next, weeks of work destroyed and burned until they too submitted. The guilds surrendered in quick succession, having no choice as they couldn’t dream of hiring enough mercenaries to fend of Kembell’s forces. The mills stopped selling Rebecca their milled grain, forcing her to buy from the farmers and mill the grain herself. Willow was forced to an exclusive deal with Kembell’s mills, unable to provide ale barm to Rebecca for leavening. She was still able to buy the milk she needed, she was thankful for that, but the other loses cut into her business. 

The price of bread also dropped. Part of Kembell’s ‘generosity’ was ensuring that his underlings at least had basic bread so they would not starve. It also drew in the poor and hungry, working as little more than slaves in exchange for food and shelter. With half the town given free food, Rebecca lost customers.

Rebecca rented out her home, now living exclusively in the bakery so she could gain some sort of income from the other rooms of the building. She desperately wanted to leave, knowing that she was going to be squeezed out of business sooner or later, she couldn’t afford to pay off Kembell for his ‘protection’ as well as pay her taxes, give to the church, and operate the business forever. 

She found herself sobbing in the confessional at the end of every week, feeling as though she was failing her family and her Goddess. But Kembell was a generous donor to The Church, and gave food to anyone who agreed to work for him. Was what he was doing somehow justified and acceptable to The Goddess? His ever increasing wealth and power made it clear that he was blessed, but why him? Rebecca didn’t understand The Goddess’ plan, and felt guilty whenever she was upset by it. 

“What am I to do?” she wept in the confessional, begging for guidance from Father Augustine.

“Serve The Goddess faithfully in this life and do not worry, this life is merely a test,” Father Augustine tried to comfort her through the wooden gate he spoke through.

“I don’t think I can… he looks at me, I try to be as unattractive as possible but he… I can not stop him if he violates me, but would that not mean I had committed a deadly sin?” she cried. She knew it could happen any day, she heard the rumors and noticed when young women went missing for a few days, returned to their families pale and used. 

“The sin would be on him, not you,” Father Augustine winced at this conversation. It was one he had with several young women in the town, all terrified, some already violated. 

The knowledge did not comfort her, and after more tears and confessions she returned to her home in tears, rushing to get to the safety of locked doors and windows.


	5. Chapter 5

It got worse when winter set in, illnesses soaring. Rebecca had her suspicions, the entire town did, but they had no proof or way of knowing how they were being poisoned. There was no other explanation for Kembell being able to sell a cure that stopped the disease. But it was so widespread, people from other towns and villages coming to find cures for the diseases ravaging the country as hunger set in. Whether he sold them true cures or fake potions didn’t matter, his wealth was expanding, as was his influence. And with that, he grew bolder and more vicious.

The final straw for Rebecca was when she was selling oatcakes in the town square, hoping to make enough money today to be able to buy a fish. It would be an indulgence, but she desperately wanted meat after going more than two weeks eating nothing but her baked goods and the occasional egg she did not use for baking. 

There was a commotion, Kembell perched on his shire and a few of his thugs entering a house, dragging the family out. Rebecca realized it was the Soundwatcher family, one of the families that spun and wove cloth. They made delightful clothes, though Rebecca had only ever gotten the plainest of clothes, no dyes or patterns for her. 

“Garth Soundwatcher, you haven’t been keeping up with your payments, and you have cheated me,” Kembell informed the man as he was thrown to the ground in front of the horse. Garth Soundwatcher was one of the more vocal in his displeasure against Kembell’s tyranny, and everyone watching knew that was the real reason for this public act.

“Your payments are unjust! Forcing us to pay you off so you don’t destroy our products, thinking you can dictate who I sell to and what I sell while you take most of the money! I will not stand for it! The people will not stand for your villany any longer!” Garth Soundwatcher declared.

“We made a deal. You have backed out on that deal and withheld money that belongs to me. That’s stealing,” Kembell said with a smirk.

“You think you can beat and bully everyone into submission! Beat me, flog me if you like, but I will not tolerate you any further!” Garth challenged.

“Seize his family,” Kembell ordered, his guards grabbing Garth’s wife, two sons, and daughter.

“You can’t scare us! We are united!” Garth shouted, though now he looked afraid and glanced at his neighbors. 

“I have no interest in scaring you,” Kembell rolled his eyes and gestured for his guards to bring the family to the center of the square. The bystanders cleared out, knowing Kembell would trample anyone who got in front of his horse. Kembell dismounted his horse and approached the daughter, named Nellie, a year younger than Rebecca. 

“What are you doing? Stop! She did nothing!” Garth yelled, terrified now as Kembell grabbed Nellie by the neck.

“I thought you said you were united, therefore you are all punishable for theft and failure to meet your payments,” Kembell smirked, the guards keeping Nellie from fighting as Kembell hoisted up her skirts.

“All?” Garth muttered, going pale.

“Of course, everyone in your family will be punished,” Kembell said rolling his eyes as though it was obvious. The family screamed and begged, fighting back, trying to break away, begging for mercy.

Rebecca, like everyone else, stood numbly, watching. What else could they do? Peasants had to submit to their higher ups, it was their position in life. This was how it was. Even if it made her blood boil there was nothing she could do. She was just one girl, and they’d turn around and do the same to her if she gave them the slightest reason to. Although, as a young woman, they didn’t need to reason, Kembell took what he wanted. Garth Soundwater was a fool, thinking screaming in the streets would get people to rally behind him. How could they fight back against Kembell? He was too powerful. Kembell was just another violent lord.

Except.

Kembell wasn’t a noble. He was just a peasant who cheated and forced his way into riches. Nobles didn’t care about peasant conflicts.

Rebecca grabbed an oatcake from her basket and pegged it at Kembell’s head with all her might. And kneading dough builds muscle. 

The oatcake smacked him in the back of the head, the force snapping his head down and making the oatcake break.

He snarled and whipped his head around, forgetting the sobbing Nellie in his grip as he adjusted his trousers and turned around.

“Who threw that?” he demanded. Oh Goddess, what had she done?

“Her! The bread girl!” one of the guards who had seen her pointed and shouted.

“You dare assault your lord?!” he shouted, stomping over to her.

“You are no lord! You’re nothing more than a peasant who cheated his way to wealth!” Rebecca shouted back, reminding everyone that Kembell was no better than her. “No title! No land! No ties to nobility!” She kept going, encouraged by the whispers and murmurs in the crowd.

“How dare-” Kembell snarled as he got to her, hand raised to strike her. She was going to be punished anyway.

Her knee to his crotch cut him off, forcing him to a complete halt as he gasped and tried to not fall. To add insult to injury she swung her basket, slamming it into his face and sending him to the ground.

“You-!” Kembell growled, scrambling to his feet, furious that she had fought back and dirtied his fine silk.

A harsh laugh broke through the crowd, stopping Kembell before he could strike Rebecca.

“Who dares-” Kembell shouted, red in the face, but was cut off by men in robes dropping their hoods.

“Presenting Countess Foressa, Marchioness Mistfall, Lady Adalinda of the House of Drake,” the bodyguard announced, the laughing revealing itself to be a noble woman under a dark hood.

Everyone dropped to their knees, bowing to the Countess. 

“I thank you, my subjects, for the entertainment today,” she said and stepped toward Kembell and Rebecca.

“You, girl,” she said, looking down her thin nose at Rebecca. The peasant didn’t dare look up, raising her head only to look at the Lady’s shoes and hem of her dress.

“Yes, my Lady?” Rebecca asked, quivering now. She was definitely going to die.

“Have you ever bed a man?” the random question made Rebecca raise her head a bit more, stopping before she looked above the Lady’s knees.

“No, my Lady,” Rebecca remembered to reply once the shock faded.

“You will regret it if you have lied,” Lady Adalinda warned before beckoning to her entourage, “bring the girl.”

“My Lady-!” Kembell stammered, furious at being overlooked and also that Rebecca was going to get out of his grasp.

“You are useless to me, begone,” she dismissed him, not even looking at him as she turned and walked away. Rebecca followed, unsure what else to do. What about her bakery? Her chickens? 

Rebecca kept her head down, glancing around as they walked until they reached the edge of Jorviktown where a grand carriage was waiting.

“Ugh, I can’t stand these rags,” Lady Adalinda complained, holding her arms out and letting her guards remove the cheap looking cloak. Then they held her hands and assisted her into her carriage.

“Follow, girl,” she ordered, a finger beckoning Rebecca into the carriage after her.

“Brenton,” Lady Adalinda called, one of the guards approached at her call, “ride ahead to the Archbishop, I wish to have her virginity verified.”

“Of course, My Lady,” the knight said, bowing before mounting up, riding ahead to deliver the message. 

“Now, girl, have you family?” Lady Adalinda asked, studying Rebecca now that they were alone in a carriage.

“No, My Lady.”

“A betrothed?”

“No, My Lady.”

“Excellent! How did you support yourself?”

“I took over the family bakery when my parents passed away, My Lady,” Rebecca explained curious by the questions. What was happening?

“Ah! A baker? Do you know how to make pastries?” she asked, a bit excited.

“It was too expensive for us to make the finer breads, fine ground flour is too expensive,” Rebecca explained, blushing and embarrassed.

“Ah, of course, such things are reserved for the higher classes of society,” the Lady chided herself, “if you knew such skills you would be more useful to me.”

“I can learn, My Lady,” Rebecca offered. Whatever Lady Adalinda wanted had to be better than going back and no doubt being killed by Kembell for her rebellion. 

“Oh?” she asked, curious and clearly doubting the intelligence of peasants. 

“If you wish, My Lady, I can learn anything you instruct me to learn,” Rebecca vowed, freezing at the cold laugh the noblewoman let out.

“Yes, I suspect you are desperate to be useful to me,” Lady Adalinda said with a dark chuckle, using her closed fan to lift up Rebecca’s face to look the peasant in the eyes. Looking at her face now Rebecca saw the fine and pointed bone structure of the Lady, her skin incredibly pale, and cruel grey eyes. 

“What do you want from me, My Lady?” Rebecca asked, terrified of the look in the noblewoman’s eyes.

“I want you to be a virgin,” she said with a wide smile, “now be silent, I want to inspect you.”

Rebecca shut her mouth, glancing away and even more bewildered than ever. She felt herself trembling under the woman’s studious glare, her fine eyebrows low as she mulled over Rebecca’s appearance.

Rebecca swallowed and obediently moved about as the noblewoman used her fan to turn Rebecca’s face, move her hair, lit her arms, move her arms. Rebecca stiffened when the noblewoman pulled out a riding whip and tapped Rebecca’s ankles, making her spread her legs, revealing her feet and a bit of her ankles. She didn’t understand what the noblewoman wanted with her, but she felt like she was being appraised like an animal for sale. Perhaps that’s what she was?

The fear that she was no more than cattle got worse when they arrived at a fabulous castle and she was taken into the cathedral behind the impressive walls. 

“Another one, Countess?” a richly dressed Archbishop asked, looking at Rebecca critically.

“Indeed, Archbishop. You will ensure that she is fit for my needs?” the noblewoman asked.

“Of course, Countess,” the Archbishop nodded his head to her, “the preparations have already begun.” He motioned to priests behind him who came up to Rebecca to take her.

“Excellent, thank you for all you do, Archbishop,” the noblewoman said with a grin before she departed, giving one last look to Rebecca before disappearing.

Rebecca obediently followed, anxious when she was taken into a room with priests and deacons, the Archbishop standing back and watching. She tried not to twitch and be nervous, but she had no idea what they would do to find proof that she was a virgin.

“Have you lain with a man?” the Archbishop asked.

“No, Your Excellency,” she answered, jumping when a priest touched her face.

“Where are you from?”

“Jorviktown, Your Excellency.”

“And you attended service?”

“Yes, Your Excellency, every Sunday.”

“And your confessions?”

“Every Saturday, more if time permitted.”

“I see, and the Jorviktown church, that is led by Father Augustine, is it not?”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

“I shall send a messenger to verify your statements,” he said, nodding to a priest who left the room.

From there it got incredibly awkward for Rebecca, the questions turning into orders to strip for inspection. She continued to blush, trying to cover herself, looking down and unable to look at any of the priests as the inspected the size and shade of her nipples. She twitched and whimpered when they made her sit and spread her legs so they could check her hymen. They gave her water and then something bitter to drink, with the instructions to not relieve herself until she was given permission. She was allowed to put her clothes back on, but she was made to sit and wait. Even with her clothes on she felt humiliated, wrapping her arms around herself and crossing her legs, face burning from shame as she looked at the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

“Well?” the Countess asked the Archbishop when he left the interrogation room.

“I have yet to interview her priest, and test her urine,” he informed her.

“You have sent for him?”

“As soon as I learned who to send for, Countess.”

“Good, how have the tests been thus far?”

“Her body suggests that she is physically a virgin, the other tests will reveal if she a virgin in her heart and spirit.”

“That is a promising start,” the Countess said, clearly pleased. 

 

\---

Rebecca was trying not to whimper and cry, but today had been terrible, and now she wasn’t even allowed to relieve herself. 

The priests weren’t obviously watching her, but they did keep an eye on her, staying in the room to make sure she didn’t find some secret way to relieve herself. 

“Father, what are you reading?” she asked timidly, unable to bear the silence and needing to distract herself.

“The Words of Our Goddess,” the priest reading said, studying a section of vellum.

“Can you read it aloud, please Father??” she asked, interested now. She couldn’t read, and the written word was expensive and difficult to find, too expensive to be owned by any but the highest ranks of society and the Church.

“You are interested in the Bible?”

“Oh yes, Father! I always wanted to be a nun and be in direct service of Our Goddess, but the Goddess had a different life planned for me,” Rebecca said sadly. If she had become a nun this wouldn’t have happened, she would have been far away from Kembell and the misery. 

“I see, my child,” he said after a moment of thought, appraising her. But, to her joy, he began to read from the vellum. 

 

Meanwhile, in another small room in the cathedral, Archbishop Peter was meeting with Father Augustine.

The interview concerning Rebecca was going well, Father Augustine confirming that Rebecca was as devoted and pure as a peasant in a town could be, swearing on the Goddess Herself that Rebecca was as virgin in spirit and mind as possible. 

 

When the priest finished his slow and reverent reading of the sacred words of The Goddess Rebecca meekly asked when she would be permitted to relieve herself. She nearly left go when she sighed when they said she could use the bucket in the next room, not caring that they told her to bring the bucket to them. She didn’t care that one of the priests followed her and watched her so that she could not do anything to the bucket. What she would do she hadn’t the faintest idea. 

She gave the bucket to the priest who followed her, and she was escorted out. The Archbishop and Father Augustine looked at her, the Archbishop disappearing into the room she had just left to examine the bucket of urine.

“Father! What are you doing here?” Rebecca asked, happy to see a familiar face.

“I was sent for, they have an interest in you and wanted to verify the state of your spirit,” he explained, glad she was smiling. He hadn’t seen her smile in a long time.

“How are the people? The town? What… did Kembell do anything after I left?” Rebecca spoke quietly, wincing at she mentioned the horrid man. 

“He punished the Soundwatcher family, and those who were encouraged by your actions,” he frowned, thinking of the unpleasant memories.

“My actions? Did- was anyone killed?” Rebecca asked, afraid to know the truth.

“Garth Soundwatcher’s wife, Julie. Rosemary, Sanna, and Henrik Overstream. Jacob, Arthur, and Olaf Sunstone. Stein Rivermoon. Walter Shadowhawk will be lucky to survive the night,” he listed those he remembered, Rebecca tearing up and covering her mouth.

“Oh Goddess. What have I done? I shouldn’t have- I thought I was doing the right thing,” she cried, trying to stop the tears. She couldn’t cry, not here, not now, not with the Countess standing by and watching her critically.

“Father, Goddess, forgive me! What can I do to atone?” she begged, desperate to make it right.

 

The Countess looked at the Archbishop when he reappeared, waiting for his decision.

“The peasant girl is a virgin,” he confirmed, the Countess smiling wide.

“Come, girl,” she said, loud enough to break Rebecca from her attempts at getting penance from Father Augustine. The Countess’ eyes narrowed when Rebecca looked at the Father once more, hesitating, before coming to the Countess’ side. 

“You will need to be cleaned up,” the Countess said dismissively before she looked back at the Archbishop, “thank you for your services, Archbishop.”

Bows and proper farewells were exchanged, and then Rebecca was led into the castle proper, taken by servants to be bathed and her clothes washed. What she desperately wanted was to eat something and sleep, but instead she was forced to remain awake and after bathing was led to the Countess’ chambers. 

“My Lady?” Rebecca asked and bowed, the new clothes she had been given feeling strange against her skin. 

“Ah, there is my delightful little girl,” Countess Adalinda cooed, her attendants shooed away and Rebecca beckoned closer.

“How may I serve you, My Lady?” Rebecca asked, keeping her head down.

“That remains to be seen,” Countess Adalinda purred, standing up and walking around Rebecca, looking her up and down. 

“Girls,” the Countess addressed the two attendants, pointing a finger at Rebecca and gesturing up and down. The two young women approached, one brunette with a dark complexion, the other black haired and heavily freckled against pale skin, and began to remove Rebecca’s clothes. The Countess continued to pace around the new girl, an excited gleam in her eye as Rebecca’s flesh was revealed. Rebecca blushed and whimpered, uncomfortable but not knowing what to do, once more standing naked in a room of strangers.

“Mmm, yes, I do think this will be excellent. What is your name?” she finally asked, looking Rebecca up and down.

“Rebecca, My Lady,” she muttered, not liking that the two attendants kept pulling her arms down when she tried to cover her chest and crotch.

“Mm, do you know what that name means?” the Countess asked.

“No, My Lady, just that it is a Bible name,” she replied, shivering when the riding whip appeared again, touching Rebecca’s stomach. 

“We will have to find out what it means, names are important you know. But there is something even more important than names,” the Countess said, drawing closer to Rebecca, taking hold of the whip and twisting, revealing a small blade, “blood.”

Rebecca’s heart went into overdrive, panic setting in once more. The hands holding her in place made it worse, the cold steel pricking the base of her neck. 

“You may serve me by giving me your blood,” the Countess smirked, coming within a few hairs of Rebecca’s face, relishing the blood draining from Rebecca’s face in fear.

“Not all of it at once, just a bit every day,” the Countess said, smirking turning into a teasing grin, Rebecca sighing in relief.

“But there are conditions: you are now my attendant, you will do as I ask when I ask it, regardless of what it is. And you will not lose your virginity, I don’t care what you have to do, you will not let a man violate you, is that understood?” Rebecca nodded, relieved but still anxious. What was this new life going to bring to her?

“Now hold still, little girl,” the Countess said softly, nicking Rebecca’s neck, a shallow surface cut just enough to draw blood.

Rebecca watched Lady Adalinda slowly and thoughtfully lick the blood on the blade, grey eyes fixed on Rebecca’s. 

“Yes, you will do nicely,” Countess Adalinda decided with a smirk.


End file.
